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EDITORS’ NOTES

Who else but rap’s most fearlessly creative duo could open their biggest album with a bonfire of American dreams? Outkast’s fourth LP may have launched them into the mainstream, but there’s nothing safe about it: Even its most populist track, “Ms. Jackson,” is a glitchy, galactic soul number about a messy divorce. The collection is peppered with slo-mo funk cuts (“Toilet Tisha”), neo-soul steppin’ anthems (“Humble Mumble”), and political drum ’n’ bass rap (“B.O.B.”). There is no genre, no “mainstream versus underground”—there is only groove.

EDITORS’ NOTES

Who else but rap’s most fearlessly creative duo could open their biggest album with a bonfire of American dreams? Outkast’s fourth LP may have launched them into the mainstream, but there’s nothing safe about it: Even its most populist track, “Ms. Jackson,” is a glitchy, galactic soul number about a messy divorce. The collection is peppered with slo-mo funk cuts (“Toilet Tisha”), neo-soul steppin’ anthems (“Humble Mumble”), and political drum ’n’ bass rap (“B.O.B.”). There is no genre, no “mainstream versus underground”—there is only groove.